All Wrong
by Molly Morrison
Summary: Things don't go exactly as Jarod had planned...
1. All Wrong

Author's Note: I'm actually working on another story right now, this was just a little break but I ended up liking it. Tell me what you think, and if you want it continued... Personally I'm not sure it's the kind of story that should be continued, but you're my readers so I'll let you decide. ;-)  
  
All Wrong  
  
It's all wrong. It shouldn't have happened this way. I let Parker get close--I wanted to talk to her face to face. But I had the escape routes all planned out, and I knew Miss Parker would let me go. We were talking, the way we seem to always do these days: I taunt, Parker tries to redeem herself without getting off the fence. I must say that she has good balance--it really should be impossible for someone to balance themselves between good and bad the way she does, but somehow she succeeds anyhow.  
  
I was just about to jump out the window, as I had planned. Then Parker put her hand to her ear and her eyes widened. She swore under her breath, then exclaimed, "He followed me!" Her eyes refocused on me, and we came to the same conclusion at the same time.  
  
"He's outside?" I ask, my throat suddenly so dry that I can barely get the words out. She nods. I glance out the window and confirm that yes, Lyle's men are blocking my escape route.  
  
"Looks like I got you this time," she says, but it's a flat comment, lacking her usual spark. Suddenly we are both trapped in a web of our own acting, forced to play our roles out, as though pretending for so long had somehow made it real. I become aware that I am shaking.  
  
"Put your hands up," she says by force of habit, but I can hear a tinge of weariness behind the hardness that has invaded her voice. "Turn and face the wall--hands on the wall," she continued. I hear the jangle of handcuffs. One by one my wrists are inserted into metal restraints. I can't even fight--my alternative is the cannibal with jumper cables, waiting right outside. A shudder moves through me, and I hear Parker whisper in my ear, "I'm so sorry..."  
  
I am led down to the black towncar that Parker has waiting, my head down. I don't want to see the sweepers surrounding me, or the expression on Parker's face. She's pretending for real now, I know. "What are you going to tell daddy dearest, Lyle? Looks like I beat you to the prize!"  
  
"Get Houdini to the Centre, then you can threaten me," replies Lyle, the sneer in his voice making it clear that he doesn't think it's going to happen. Or so he was hoping. I'm glad Syd didn't make it on this trip. Broots is staying mercifully quiet.  
  
A burly sweeper on either side, and Miss Parker with her gun on me the whole time. Behind my back, I'm already working on the handcuffs. By the time we are halfway to the Centre, I have the right handcuff off. A little while later, the Centre comes into view and I feel another shudder run through me.  
  
Parker can't afford to "forget" anything today. As we pull into the Centre garage, she reminds the sweepers, "Check his cuffs, boys." They of course find what I've done, and one of them thinks it amusing to close the cuff so tightly that it's painful.  
  
I'm dragged roughly out of the car, where the ghoul is waiting. "Welcome home, Jarod," he tells me with a grin. I think that's Raines' favorite line, but not without good reason: I die a little inside every time I hear someone call the Centre my home, and I think he knows it.  
  
I'm not about to just take the blows, though. "Your home, maybe," I retort, and I spit in his face. Not unexpectedly I receive a forceful blow to the stomach, and I let it double me over. From there I swing my leg out and twist my body with all the force that I can give it. I take the sweeper on the left out, and then deal a blow of my own to the sweeper on my right. Freed, I dash toward the small opening that I know leads to fresh air.  
  
With the grace of a tiger, Parker extends her leg, taking both of mine out from under me. I pitch forward and smash my face on the cement, my arms not able to catch my fall. When I'm pulled roughly to my feet, there is blood streaming down my face. "Not so easy, genius-boy," she spits. Even I can't tell if she means it or not.  
  
With that, I am dragged into the bowels of the Centre, to my very own dark, dank cell. There I'm tossed unceremoniously inside and left alone. It definitely shouldn't have happened this way, I tell myself again. 


	2. Back in the Centre

Author's note: Wow, the response to my question was amazing! I must admit that even though I said I was thinking about leaving it at that, the story stuck in my head and I wrote some more last night. Let me know what you think!  
Oh, and one more thing. I forgot to note it in the first part, but this is set after the most recent movie (Island of the Haunted). I don't think there are any spoilers, but...  
  
Back in the Centre  
(All Wrong, part 2)  
  
The dim light never changes, and I haven't seen anyone for a long time. I can't be more specific than that because I really have no idea of how much time has passed. I've slept three times, but that doesn't mean that three days have passed. They've given me a little water, and no food. I know I'm dehydrated, but I'm not dead--yet. If I didn't know better, I'd think they might have forgotten about me down here. But I know I'm more important to them than that. This has to be some kind of mind game. Have they forgotten all the SIMs I did on prisoners of war? I have to admit, though only to myself, that I really would like to know what's going on up there. I could try to SIM it, but I don't have enough information... and this place doesn't really put me in the mood for SIMing.  
  
I spend the entire "day" (i.e. period between waking and sleeping) thinking--I try to keep my thoughts off my capture. And about my life outside--I'll miss it too much. And about my life inside--don't exactly have a lot of pleasant memories from growing up in this hellhole. Really, there's not much that I want to let myself think about--thinking hurts. Finally, I settle for sleeping; who knows, maybe that will be the next thing they take from me.  
  
After I wake up, I don't notice the note immediately. When I do, I cross the cell to look at it. It's typed, and just has three words: "Ready to SIM?" If I had the saliva I would spit on it--as it is I just tear it up furiously and throw it out of the cell.  
  
As if in answer my whole cell is inundated with ice-cold water. It lasts just long enough to soak me through the few clothes they've left me. I manage to get some in my mouth, though, and it's refreshing.  
  
It doesn't take a genius to figure out what they're doing. There is cold air flowing through my cell, and it's not long before I can't control my shivering any longer. I stand up, moving as much as I can within my small cell. I'd guess I've made it about two hours when I start to feel the first signs of hypothermia--instead of feeling cold, I'm beginning to feel warm. What are they doing, trying to kill me? Now that I think about it, I just don't care that much. I'm tired. Exhausted, really. I give up on my attempted exercise, lay down on the still damp floor, and slip off to sleep. Part of me is hoping that I don't wake up again.  
  
Unfortunately, I do. Now I feel cold again, even though I can feel a warm blanket over me. I'm disoriented--what's going on, what happened to me? It looks like I'm in a hospital. "Oh, you're awake," says a nice voice, the face out of sight. I struggle through the fog in my mind to identify the face that goes with that voice, I think I know it. He interrupts my thoughts. "I bet you're pretty hungry, aren't you?" Now that he mentions it, my stomach feels as though it's about to start devouring itself. I nod weakly in agreement. "Just follow my instructions and then we'll make sure you get plenty of food. Just follow this with your eyes... that's right, very good. You're feeling very tired... your eyelids are getting heavy..."  
  
-----  
  
I wake up and for a moment I don't know where I am. Then I laugh at myself--I'm in the same place I wake up every morning. I run my hand through my short hair, then over my face, where stubble is beginning to form. I drag myself out of bed, and the lights stop flashing over my head. After a cold morning shower, I move to the living room, where my daily nutritional supplement is waiting as always. When I'm finished, the door opens to reveal Sydney. He hands me an electric razor, following me into the bathroom to supervise me--I don't know why he bothers, I've been doing this for long enough now. I hand him the shaver and he disappears for a moment while I rinse my face.  
  
When I emerge again, Sydney smiles, but for some reason it seems a little forced. "Okay, Jarod, are you ready to start on a new SIM?" I nod, my thoughts about Sydney's behavior vanishing, at least for the moment. He tells me about the SIM as we walk to the SIM room, and soon I am immersed in my work, just like always. 


	3. Nightmares

Author's Note: Okay, now you have almost all that I've written, so I've got to go see what else I can come up with. This is an interesting story to write because I get to speculate on what Jarod was like before he escaped from the Centre... Let me know if you agree with me or not!  
  
Nightmares  
  
I don't get a lot of time to myself to think, considering the work I do. They keep me busy. Still, that's okay--I know it means I'm able to help more people.  
  
Sometimes, though, I need some time to think for myself. I don't need very much sleep, so usually I just lay awake thinking, like I am right now. Sydney's been acting strangely the last few days. Now that I think about it, seems like everyone's been watching me lately. Are they worried about me? If so, I don't know what about; I'm healthy, and as happy as I ever am. SIMs have been fine--in fact, Sydney's been more eflusive in his praise than ever. Strange. Everything has been perfectly routine, except the nightmare I've had a few times this week. I don't even remember what it's about. I decide that must be the problem, then drift off to sleep.  
  
Later in the night, I wake up to the sound of myself screaming. Urgently I try to remember the dream. I was being tortured, I remember, and the pain was incredible; the man who was torturing me, though, didn't look like anyone I've ever seen. Paradoxically, he seemed all too familiar in the dream. Finally I manage to calm my thoughts and get a few more hours of sleep.  
  
When Sydney comes the next morning, he gives me a piercing glance, like he has been doing this whole week. "Is something wrong?" I ask curiously, and he smiles.  
  
"No, Jarod, everything is fine. How are you?" As usual, he keeps the topic of conversation on me.  
  
"I'm fine," I assure him. "I just... I had a little trouble sleeping last night, but it was nothing."  
  
"Another bad dream?" he asks with a frown.  
  
I nod. "This time I remembered some of it. I was being tortured. It seemed strange to me, we haven't done a SIM on anything like that in a while, and I didn't recognize the face of the man at all--I mean, I did in my dream, but not when I woke up."  
  
Sydney purses his lips. "I'm sure it's nothing, but let me know if you still have trouble sleeping--we need you awake and alert." I nod, part of me glad that Sydney isn't too worried. I trust his judgement, he always been able to help me. He's kind of like my father, since mine's dead and he raised me growing up. I'm not sure he feels the same way, but he's all I have.  
  
We're starting a SIM on biological warfare now. So that's why Sydney wanted me well rested. Sometimes I hate doing these SIMs; part of me finds it hard to believe that anyone would actually do this. I'm glad, though, that I can help by figuring out what they might try and fighting it.  
  
These days I really don't have time to think. I get back to my room and I'm too exhausted to do much more than eat, lay down, and sleep. Still, there are more things nagging for my attention. I've had more dreams of that man who I can't identify, torturing me for a reason I don't know. It's not strange for me to have nightmares based on SIMs I'm in the middle of or have finished recently, but this is not normal. Something is tickling in the back of my mind, telling me this could be important. How, I have no idea, but my instinct tends to be right.  
  
Sydney asks me about them again a week later. "I'm sleeping fine, Sydney," I assure him. He looks dubious but accepts me at my word.  
  
Another week passes, and I'm nearing the end of the SIM. I am well and truly exhausted every day and the dreams are gone--actually, for the last week I can't remember dreaming at all. One night, while I'm eating my daily nutritional supplement before going to bed, something occurs to me--I'm not *that* tired. It's not until after I get in bed each night that I feel that overwhelming exhaustion. I have a strange suspicion (more than a suspicion, actually, I'm fairly certain) that they are drugging my food. It wouldn't be the first time; Sydney sometimes just doesn't tell me what he thinks best for me.  
  
Now I want to know, though. I pretend to continue eating, then "accidentally" drop the bowl. If anyone's watching me (and I know they are), I make it look like I only had a little left. When I lay down, it *does* take me longer to get to sleep. Not exactly proof, but enough to confirm my suspicions.  
  
If that hadn't been, the four nightmares that ensue are enough to convince me. One of them includes the man torturing me, once again, which I wake up from with a scream. Another involves Miss Parker, Sydney, and many other people I only partially know or don't recognize at all. I'm in a place I don't recognize, but the weirdest thing is that it's OUTSIDE. I feel this horrible need to get away from all the people, and I grab a nearby motorcycle. Someone shoots the tire out, though, and I go down. My whole body aches, and just as I'm trying to get up I am surrounded. Mr. Raines looks down at me and tells me," Welcome home, Jarod." I awake with a gasp, and it takes me a while to get back to sleep. When I do, I have the dream of the man torturing me again. This time it lasts longer, and I name him in my dream: Lyle. The name has no more significance to me than the face. My final dream involves an angry Miss Parker threatening to shoot me in the knee if I run. For some reason I have to get away, but when I try she actually shoots me! I wake up from the pure shock of that occurring, and wonder what all of this could possibly mean.  
  
Needless to say, I'm not very well rested the next morning when Sydney comes. He walks in looking worried. "Is something wrong, Jarod?"  
  
I learned the answer to that question long ago. "I'm fine."  
  
"How did you sleep last night?"  
  
"Fine," I respond obstinately. I'm surprised at myself; usually I'm very honest with Sydney.  
  
"It's just that you look tired..." he explained.  
  
"No, it's just that your cameras say I didn't sleep very well last night, because I didn't eat the drugged food you were feeding me!!" I exclaim, and then we are both surprised at my outburst.  
  
"You know that the cameras are only for your protection," began Sydney after a moment, his voice soothing. I nod wearily. He gestures to the rarely used couch, and suggests, "How about you sit down and we talk about your dreams." I acquiesce silently. Once again, though, I find myself lying to him.  
  
"I keep having that dream with Lyle in it."  
  
"Lyle?" Sydney asks, surprised. Only then do I realize that I unconsciously used the name from the dream.  
  
"Oh, sorry... in the dream I apparently knew him, and his name was Lyle."  
  
"Oh," is Sydney's response, and I can't help but feel he sounds a little relieved. "I'm worried that you keep having this dream. I thought you might not be sleeping well from the stress, and that was why I had a mild sedative put in your daily nutritional supplement."  
  
I nod. Funny how I'm not so angry about it when he explains it calmly. "But why am I dreaming about someone I've never met?"  
  
"Do you think it might be someone from one of your old SIMs, maybe?"  
  
"No, I don't remember anything like this. It's like a memory, but I don't..." Suddenly something falls into place. "You blocked it out of my memory!" I recognize the signs of hypnosis. (A back part of my mind takes a split second to ask me how I know that, and then disappears.)  
  
Sydney is silent for a moment, then sighs. "You're right. It was a particularly bad SIM, a long time ago, and I had to block it from your conscious and unconscious memory so you could concentrate and sleep well. I had hoped that would continue to work, but something seems to have brought it out subconsciously. But the block appears to be more or less intact, so I'm going to suggest that you continue to have a mild sedative in the evening until the nightmare goes away of its own accord." I nod slowly. "Very well, now that we've resolved that, it's time to get to the SIM lab. We're falling behind." I stand to follow him, still thinking. I've gone through everyone in my head, and what Sydney just said doesn't explain the other dreams that I didn't tell him about. Are there *more* SIMs lost in my head? I can't help but feel a bit violated at knowing that I have so little control over my own mind.  
  
For the next few nights, I eat my nutritional supplement, sedative and all. I must admit that the uninterrupted sleep is nice. When the SIM is finished and I don't need quite so much concentration, though, I again don't finish it--I want to see for myself if the dreams are gone or not.  
  
They're not. I have more that night, and I am even more confused. The next morning, I have a demand.  
  
"Undo the blocks," I tell Sydney firmly when he returns.  
  
He shakes his head. "Sorry, Jarod, I can't do that."  
  
I change my tone. "Please! It's going to keep bothering me and you know I can't undo it myself."  
  
Sydney shakes his head again, looking honestly sorry that he can't agree. "Trust me, Jarod, it's better this way... And if you would eat all your food then you wouldn't have to worry about them."  
  
I know when he's not going to budge, so I close my mouth. I go through the motions that day, starting on a new SIM, but over and over Sydney has to reprimand me to regain my attention.  
  
That evening when I get home, I don't even fake for the cameras. I walk right past my food and to my bed.  
  
It takes me a while to go to sleep, and when I do it's restless at best. It seems in every dream people are telling me to cooperate, trying to force me to, but I'm always trying to run. The last dream is the one that frightens me most. In it, I dream that one of my SIMs, intended to rescue someone, was being used to kidnap them instead. When I awake, I reassure myself by remembering that Sydney would never let something like that happen.  
  
I can't hide my exhaustion from him. He shakes his head. "Jarod, why are you doing this to yourself?"  
  
"I want to know what you've hidden in my mind... I don't like the thought that there are things that I can't remember!"  
  
Sydney shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Jarod, but it's not my choice to make. The decision was made that it was better for you not to remember that SIM, and it is not going to be changed. He pauses. "However, in the interest of getting you to eat, I'll order the sedative taken out of your supplement."  
  
At least that is taken care of. I know Sydney will follow through, because he knows I will know easily enough if he hasn't. Now I just hope that the dreams will go away.  
  
I have one the next night, and then they do go away. I test one night, but it's definitely not my dinner that's helping me sleep. I'm relieved. A month passes, and things are back to the way they always are. Sydney has even stopped giving me the strange looks. The forgotten SIM slips out of my mind again. Time continues to flow by, unmeasured as always. 


	4. Shock

Author Note: Okay, now I'm going to make enemies of all of you who have been so nice and complimentary of the story, but... There's CHARACTER DEATH in this chapter.. (All caps in case anyone doesn't like to read my ramblings, because this time they're actually kind of important.)  
  
The Shock  
  
I've been through my whole wake-up routine (minus the shaving) and I'm waiting for Sydney, but he never shows up. Sometimes he goes away for a few days, but usually he tells me and someone else works with me for those days. (I prefer that he not go away, given my alternatives.) Today, nothing. He just doesn't show up.  
  
The door finally opens. It's Miss Parker, and she looks like she wants to cry. For someone who has their emotions as controlled and hidden as she does, that means that inside she's sobbing. I catch my breath, not sure what this means.  
  
"Jarod... I..." She shakes her head. "Sydney was killed this morning," she finally manages. Then she is silent, trying to hold back the tears that are even closer to breaking the emotional dam she's constructed. She turns to go, but I call out.  
  
"Wait!" She turns. "What... how...?" It's not often that I'm this lost for words, but she just said the three words that I have always dreaded hearing, even if I didn't consciously know it.  
  
She shakes her head. "I can't... I have to go. I just thought you deserved to hear it from someone who cared about him as much as you did." With that, she turns and flies through the door, and I know that as soon as she is out of sight she will cry.  
  
Like I want to do, but the tears don't come. It's too unreal; how could Sydney be dead? And what does this mean for me? Horrible visions of SIMs I remember from working with Raines flash through my head, and I hope that they don't submit me to that. Maybe this is all some kind of test, or SIM, or... Maybe I'm dreaming... I know I'm grasping at straws, but I have to grasp at something!  
  
Finally the door opens again, and a stranger enters. I just watch him enter; no smiles or greetings today. He smiles tentatively, sympathetically (or his attempt at such), then says, "Hi, Jarod. My name is Dr. Morris." I just watch him. He moves to sit next to me on the couch. "I know all of this must be a horrible shock... I'm here to talk to you about what happened."  
  
"He's really dead, then?" I say, my voice barely holding out to say the words. I know it's true, and yet, I will it not to be.  
  
Dr. Morris takes a deep breath. "Sydney was on his way to work this morning when he was hit by a big rig that had run the light. That's all I can tell you at the moment, they're still doing an investigation to find out what exactly happened."  
  
I shake my head. It's too fast. Just like my parents and the plane crash. When they were coming to see me. Maybe I'm a dangerous person to visit. I know I'm being foolish, but at this moment I don't have a lot of control over my thoughts. "Was it--" I cut myself off in asking for more information, coming to a conclusion. "I want to SIM it."  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," he responds, shaking his head slowly. It's too much like Sydney, but he isn't Sydney! Anger swells up in me.  
  
"It wasn't a request," I respond curtly.  
  
The doctor doesn't take offense, but he doesn't change his mind either. "I can't let you do that, Jarod. It's too close, and you're too emotionally involved." He pauses. "I think we *both* know that."  
  
The anger evaporates as quickly as it appeared, punctured by the calm and reason sitting next to me. Resigned, I nod slowly; he's right, and I can't do anything about it.  
  
It hurts to have a stranger here, watching me as I struggle to come to terms with yet another senseless death. "Can I have some time alone?" I ask quietly.  
  
He mirrors what I know Syd would have said. "You can have some time, but when I come back tomorrow we're going to get back to the SIM you were working on." I just nod wearily. I could fill in the rest myself. 'Being sad doesn't accomplish anything, you need to get on with life,' I hear Sydney's voice echo in my ears. Even he had only given me a few hours after informing me that my parents had died. Then again, when they died, everything around me didn't remind me of them; I didn't have memories flooding my head. I barely remember them.  
  
I don't do anything; I can't do anything. What would I do? Slowly, my frustration begins to build. I slam my fist down on the table next to me, angry at the situation, at life. "No! It can't be, he can't be gone!" I know that that I am going through the grieving process; I know the stages by heart, and this is not the first time that I've experienced the hollow feeling that threatens to swallow me. This time, I think, it might just succeed.  
  
I eat an early dinner, and I'm sure they put sedatives in it. I don't care. I want to sleep.  
  
The morning comes too early. The routine is eerily familiar, and though it hurts terribly to have someone else standing where Sydney always did, I know that I must continue. Sydney would want me to, I tell myself. I'm not sure if I believe it or not.  
  
That day I try to lose myself in the SIM; if I'm someone else then I'm not Jarod, missing the man who was my father in everything but word. At first, every time Dr. Morris speaks I am jarred out of the SIM by the unfamiliarity. I try again and again. It's not the doctor pushing me, it's me pushing myself. Finally, I push 'Jarod' to some faraway place and immerse myself in the SIM. When I finally come out of it, Dr. Morris tells me that he is disturbed at how long it took to get me out of the SIM. I just don't care.  
  
He takes me back to my room, and tells me that he's giving me a few days off, "to grieve." I don't want to grieve, I want to forget what grieving is, but I know he's afraid of losing me in a SIM for real. I have to admit there's a part of me that's scared of that, also. Then I have to ask a question: Who am I, really? What is there of me that could be lost in a SIM? 


	5. Escape

Escape  
  
For two days I have had nothing to do. I can't remember ever having had this much free time. There's plenty to read, though, and I bury myself in those books whose contents I haven't already memorized.  
  
The third day I awake and assume that Dr. Morris will return, and the routine with him. Instead, there is nothing. 'What is it this time, a train derailing?' I think bitterly to myself.  
  
Then midway through the day Miss Parker enters. My heart jumps into my throat as I consider that my flippant thought earlier might actually be correct. Then I take in the fact that she's not upset, and relax a bit. I notice, though, that she looks tired and uncomfortable--it's rare to see Miss Parker not at ease.  
  
"Jarod," she starts, then stops. She shakes her head. "I have no idea where to start to explain this, so just come with me." This is strange. I know Miss Parker is high on the chain of power, though, and that means I don't really have a choice in the matter even if I wanted one.  
  
I stand and follow her out the door. Out the door--the door with no guards outside. That's something I can't remember EVER seeing. I look back to Miss Parker. As we get in the elevator, I finally speak. "What's going on?"  
  
"Things are changing, Jarod. For the better." She looks at me to see how I take this. In reality I don't "take" it at all; I just let it hang in the air, examining it, trying to understand what it means.  
  
Then the elevator opens. In front of us is a big open area, but crowded with people. Not Centre people. Then, beyond them, I see glass doors that lead... outside. My eyes widen, and Miss Parker smiles: it's been a while since I've seen a pure smile on her face and it makes me smile too. She grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd; on seeing us a path opens to let us through.  
  
When we are outside, all thoughts vanish as I take in the living, vibrant world around me. I can smell salt, from the water nearby, and a smell I just can't identify: maybe the wind or the smell of freshly cut grass. I can feel myself smiling, stretching and threatening to split my face. When I look back to Miss Parker, she has a brilliant smile on her face. As my eyes meet hers, though, my mind comes back to earth.  
  
"What--" She holds out her hand to silence me, then takes my hand again and leads me to a knoll where we can sit. I take in the huge building that has been my home for as long as I can remember.  
  
Parker sighs. I look over and see that the smile has vanished. She looks up at me, and she looks upset, scared and vulnerable. "I know you're never going to be able to forgive me, but... I owe you the truth, especially after all this time."  
  
I open my mouth to ask what she could have done for which I wouldn't forgive her, but she silences me and continues. "Let's see... I'll start with now, because that's the easiest part. You never, ever have to re-enter that building. You're finally free of the Centre."  
  
I can hardly take this in. I'm... free? At the moment I can't really put in concrete terms what that signifies. She sees my bewilderment and gives a half-laugh. "You don't remember, but I can tell you that some of your favorite things will be ice cream and waking me at two in the morning," she hesitates, her voice uncertain, "if you're still talking to me." I've given up trying to respond--I'm just listening and trying to make some sense out of what she is saying.  
  
She is about to go on when we spot one of the many men in suits (but not standard Centre issue) walking toward us. He flashes a badge as he gets close. "FBI. You're Jarod, right?"  
  
I nod slowly, a little nervous--what is this all about?  
  
The man smiles. "Don't worry, sir, we just want to ask you a few questions." Is my face really that readable? If so, then now he can see my surprise at being addressed formally; no one has ever called me "sir" before.  
  
Now Miss Parker jumps in. "This isn't a good time," she says firmly, staring at the FBI man intently.  
  
"It's okay," I say easily. "Let him ask the questions, so he can get on with his job."  
  
I'm sure that Parker is going to protest, but at the last moment she deflates, muttering something under her breath that I can't quite make out.  
  
"Okay," he begins in a friendly tone, ignoring Parker. "Your friend here has already told us the basics, we just want to get some information from your point of view." He pauses and I nod in understanding. "What's the first thing you remember?"  
  
I shake my head with a frown. "Just... the Centre. I have a few vague memories of meeting Sydney."  
  
"Sydney was your... caretaker, yes?" I nod, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't really what I wanted to think about. "Okay, we'll have some more questions about your time in the Centre, but we'll give you some time to adjust first." I'm about to make a comment about the number of questions when to my surprise, he continues. "Can you tell me what it was that finally led you to escape, after--"  
  
"No!" Miss Parker interrupts angrily.  
  
I don't see what the problem is; he's clearly got me confused with someone else. "I never escaped... this is the first time I've been out of the Centre." I'm wondering now who DID escape from the Centre--and why they expected to find that person here.  
  
Miss Parker is trying to get the officer away now, but he ignores her, giving me a confused look. "You mean other than the five years--" At that Miss Parker physically tries to pull him away. He stumbles, then pulls his arm out of Parker's grasp--or tries. Raising his voice, he demands, "What is the meaning of this?!" His question is loud enough that several men closer to the building turn around to look. She removes her hands from his arm. She and I speak at the same time.  
  
"You must have me confused with someone else."  
  
"Can you PLEASE come over here and--" She interrupts herself as he begins to speak.  
  
He shakes his head. "No, you're the only Jarod we have, and it says right here: escaped for five years, recaptured--" I can't hear the rest over Miss Parker's scream.  
  
"STOP IT AND LISTEN TO ME!!" Both of us look to her, along with quite a few other officers; one of them begins to walk in our direction to make sure everything is okay. "Thank you," Parker continues. "I was trying to tell you, this is NOT the right time for this. If you'll come over here--"  
  
I can't wait any more. "Parker, do you know what he's talking about?" My head is spinning. Escaped for five years? Why would that be written next to my name?  
  
Parker looks over at me, impatient. "Just a minute, Jarod." Back to the FBI officer. "Now if you'll just--"  
  
"Is something wrong here?"  
  
"Yes!" cry the officer and I.  
  
"No!" is Parker's exasperated response. Then we all try to explain--at once, of course.  
  
"This woman is--"  
  
"--come over here--"  
  
"--and no one will tell me--"  
  
"ENOUGH!" The man yells, and after a moment we finally quiet. I almost laugh at the expression of pure bewilderment on his face. He looks to the officer.  
  
"I'm just trying to ask Jarod here a few questions, but this woman will not leave--"  
  
"I've just been trying to tell him--" The newcomer gives her a glare and she quiets reluctantly.  
  
"As I was trying to say, Jarod doesn't have any problem with being interviewed but Miss Parker continues to interrupt." The restraint that Parker is exercising is really fairly impressive, for her.  
  
Now the officer looks to me. "I don't mind being interviewed," I answer the unspoken question. Then I turn to her. "You know what he's talking about!"  
  
Parker looks to the officer for persmission to speak. He nods. "I would like to talk to Jarod alone, and for his sake I don't think this is a good time for questioning." She looks to the man who was questioning me. "If you'd like to know why, I'll be happy to tell you, if we can just walk a little distance away..."  
  
"What don't you want me to know??" I ask desperately. My brain is working on the question--maybe she thinks I'll be upset if I found out someone else escaped? Or--there aren't a lot of other options. There's one that keeps pestering me in the back of my head. Maybe I did escape? But five years! Even if I was much younger I couldn't have forgotten five years! 'Maybe you forgot it to protect yourself,' my mind answers. But--I just can't accept that.  
  
The two officers are looking to her for answers also. She shakes her head. "Can we have some privacy please?" She looks more upset than I would have expected.  
  
"I don't see what the problem is with having us here, ma'am," one of the officers replies reasonably.  
  
She snaps. Even I don't see it coming. "HE DOESN'T REMEMBER, OKAY? He doesn't remember!" And then I saw her collapse in tears--something I hadn't seen since she was a young girl. 


	6. Fallout

Fallout  
  
Nevertheless, I recover from the shock first. "Why don't you leave us alone for a little while..." I suggest quietly. "I'll come find you when this is worked out." I can't believe I'm still stand--my knees feel likely to cave at any moment. She just confirmed my suspicions--I did escape!  
  
The officers distance themselves, and I fall to my knees. "Five years... How could I forget?" I whisper desperately to myself. I look to Miss Parker's huddled figure. "When...?" I'm still not quite ready to understand why *she* is so upset.  
  
She looks up at me, her eyes red. "Jarod... I... you didn't forget," she finally manages.  
  
"I... but... how?" I'm lost for words and hers seem to be all trapped inside.  
  
"Oh, Jarod... it's all my fault... it's all my fault..." She breaks down again.  
  
My sensible side comes out. "Parker, it can't possibly be your fault," I reassure her.  
  
She shakes her head. "You don't understand... it was... it was my idea!"  
  
"What are you TALKING about??"  
  
Fortunately, my confusion and anger seem to break through to her. Finally, she explains. "Syd he... he hypnotized you--blocked your memories out."  
  
The light of understanding dawns in my eyes. "Like those SIMs!" I say without thinking. Parker begins to shake her head, but I've already made the next leap. "Those were no SIMs..."  
  
"I... I'm sorry, Jarod... oh, I'm so sorry!"  
  
I barely hear her; I'm still trying to make sense out of all of this. "Then... when?"  
  
"You escaped September of 1996--7 years ago. You were recaptured two years ago." She's just watching me, waiting for a reaction. At least she's stopped crying.  
  
"Two years ago..." I think back, trying to place what was two years ago. It could have been the time of the dreams. But... I couldn't tell you of any break in the continuity. I shake my head--how could 5 years just be removed from my memory so easily?  
  
Not removed, I remind myself. Hidden. "But... why? Just so I wouldn't miss the outside?"  
  
She shook her head. "So you wouldn't remember the reason you ran away."  
  
"Well, it worked," I half joke. "And the reason was...?"  
  
"You found out your SIMs were being misused."  
  
My throat goes dry, my breathing stops. Slowly, I manage to respond, "Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it does."  
  
She nods miserably. "It means what you think."  
  
"They used my SIMs to hurt people instead of helping them?" I'm working hard to keep my calm, but her nod destroys it. "How could they?!" I yell, somewhere between furious and horribly wounded. I whisper, "That means... all those years, all that work... I was hurting people instead of helping them!" I see all my SIMs flashing before my eyes, all the damage they could have--must have--done. I put my head in my hands but I can't hide from the memories in my head.  
  
I hear Parker next to me. "Don't do this to yourself, Jarod... You did this the whole five years you were out, you tore yourself apart... but it's not your fault!"  
  
I look up, revealing my frustrated and agonized face. "How can it NOT be my fault? My whole life, all my work--except for five years I can't remember, and then I went back and worked for 2 more years!" Suddenly I feel my anger turning on her. "How could you?? If you knew how much it tore me apart, how could you bring me back and take away my memory so I would continue??"  
  
Miss Parker is clearly caught by surprise. She had been ready for my anger before, but now she is caught off-guard. "I--I--" She shakes her head, the tears coming again. "I didn't want to--you don't remember how it was, what was happening. I wanted to save you--they would have tortured you, maybe to death!"  
  
"So you decided to sacrifice more innocent lives and place more on my conscience," I reply bitterly. Then I twisted the knife of my words. "Gee, thanks.. I think I would have preferred option 1, thank you very much," I quip bitterly. I stand and move away from her. I'm too angry right now to care if I've hurt her. 


	7. Help

Help  
  
As I walk away, I see what I least want to see right now: someone heading in our--no, in my--direction. I alter my course to make it more difficult for him to reach me, walking fast, but he presists. A minute later he is walking beside me.  
  
"Are you one of the people who was in the Centre?" I sigh, then nod. Maybe if I don't look at him he'll go away. "Where are you headed?" he continues. I notice what my eyes hadn't yet taken in: I'm headed toward the water. I shrug, slowly changing my direction so that I am moving toward the trees, directly away from the Centre.  
  
"Just enjoying the great outdoors?" Ugh. He is CLEARLY a psychiatrist, and I really don't want to deal with him right now. I come to a stop, and turn toward him.  
  
"Look--" I stop for a moment to remove the anger from my voice. "I'd like some time to myself... If you really want to talk to someone, try that woman back there. It'd probably do her some good to talk to you." That finished, I turn and start walking again, faster this time.  
  
To my unpleasant surprise, he's still next to me. I stop again, and this time I don't bother to control my anger. "What do you want?!"  
  
His response is calm, quiet. "I think you could use someone to talk to right now... even if you don't think that's what you want."  
  
Sighing heavily, I start walking again. Maybe I can tire him out. The Centre keeps me in pretty good shape. Kept.  
  
He is silent for almost two minutes, then speaks again. "Are you trying to somewhere, or leave somewhere?"  
  
"Does it make a difference?" I mutter irritatedly. For good judges of character psychiatrists can take a long time to take a hint.  
  
"Yes--if you're trying to leave, you can't ever arrive."  
  
"Maybe I have nowhere to arrive."  
  
"Of course you do. There has to be something you want to do, somewhere you want to go."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Or is it that you don't deserve to go anywhere?"  
  
Okay, enough is enough. I halt again. "Look, I just found out that I have a five-year gap in my memory, courtesy of the only two people I've ever trusted in my life, and that I've spent basically my entire life thinking up things used to murder innocent people," I yell in his face. "Now can I PLEASE get rid of my personal psychiatrist, already??"  
  
I start walking again, crossing my arms belligerently and hopping no one else chooses this moment to have a conversation with me.  
  
I hear the sound of leaves crunching next to me. I look over. I don't believe it--he's STILL there.  
  
"Just for future reference, telling a psychiatrist about your problems is not a good way to get rid of him."  
  
"What about threatening him with violence?" I mutter darkly.  
  
"I wouldn't suggest picking on someone bigger than you," he replies, amusement in his voice. I look over and see what I hadn't noticed before--he may be only 2-3 inches taller than me, but he's much bigger, and it's all muscle. Great.  
  
"I take it that's in case your irritating presence doesn't get rid of all the sane clients."  
  
"Actually, it's to protect me when my patients try other methods of shutting me up," he responds in a lightly amused voice.  
  
Silence falls for the moment. Once again, he's the one to break it. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Parenti, but you can call me Max."  
  
"Don't you think the doctor-patient relationship will be disrupted if we are on a first name basis?"  
  
"I'm willing to take the risk, Jarod."  
  
I sigh. So our meeting wasn't quite as 'accidental' as he made it appear. "I knew there had to be a reason you were stalking me."  
  
"Hmm, I like that. 'Massimo Parenti, stalker.'"  
  
"Sei italiano."  
  
"Parli l'italiano."  
  
"Parlo molte lingue."  
  
"Tutte le lingue come fossero la tua madre lingua?"  
  
"It's a talent." Silence. "So if threatening and yelling don't work, how DO I get rid of you?"  
  
"Ah, the magic question. All you have to do is talk to me until I'm satisfied."  
  
"Why do I get the feeling its going to be a while?" The response is sarcastic, but I'm surprised to find that the concept no longer makes me quite so angry.  
  
"I hope not. I can't keep up with your wit much longer, and we're going to have to stop walking eventually."  
  
"How about here?" We seem to be in the middle of a forest. A forest that seems vaguely familiar to me. I shake my head.  
  
"How does that fallen tree look? I need to sit."  
  
"How do you feel about wood rats?" I grin as he stops halfway over. "Let's try this stump instead." There was plenty of room for both of us, but not facing one another.  
  
"Okay, smart aleck, you win."  
  
"Smart aleck?" There was a phrase I'd never heard.  
  
"Yeah, you know, someone who is smart and likes to show it off, at other's expense."  
  
Interesting. "But then why don't you call me 'smart Jarod'?"  
  
The psychiatrist laughs. "Maybe Alec was REALLY obnoxious."  
  
"More than me?" I fake being offended.  
  
"You're not so bad, except that hostility towards psychiatrists."  
  
"Only psychiatrists who think they're funny." I pause. "Or when I'm angry," I admit.  
  
"Angry at someone, or yourself?"  
  
I sigh. "Mostly myself. And the situation."  
  
"Isn't it at least nice to be out of the Centre?"  
  
"It would be better if I hadn't been informed of what I was doing while I was in there." I feel a bit of the frustration coming back.  
  
"And what was that?"  
  
"Killing innocent people."  
  
-------  
  
More is coming eventually, I can only type so fast!  
  
"I need to learn to write with my left hand." "Why?" "My right one tires too fast." 


	8. Come with Me

"And if you were killing innocent people, why aren't you in FBI custody also?"  
  
"Not directly. But everything I was doing was contributing to their deaths."  
  
"Did you know that was what you were doing?"  
  
"No," I admitted. "I *thought* I was helping them."  
  
The psychiatrist was silent for a moment. "I had a client once who was a firefighter. One day while he was out fighting a forest fire which was later identified as an arson, his house burned down with his wife and two daughters inside."  
  
"That's awful."  
  
"He committed suicide." I can hear the sadness and frustration in his voice. "I couldn't convince him that it wasn't his fault."  
  
Okay, point taken. "But..."  
  
"No buts, Jarod," he responds firmly. "You can only put out so many fires. If others used your work to hurt people, the blame is entirely theirs. Just like that man wasn't responsible for the fire that he wasn't there to stop."  
  
"I could have stopped--"  
  
"You were kidnapped, Jarod!" he answers angrily. "You were held prisoner in that awful building for at least two-thirds of your life. How would you have stopped them?"  
  
"I--" He's got me there. "But... why couldn't I stop it?! People were dying!" The tears come again.  
  
"I know. It's awful. It's frustrating. I will weep with you for the awful loss of life, but I will NOT listen to you try to take the blame!"  
  
There's still a problem, I just can't put my finger on it. "But... I DID know!"  
  
"You told me you didn't." He waits patiently.  
  
"I don't remember," I respond bitterly. "I knew, and then they made me forget. I *let* them take it away from me!"  
  
"Ahh, this is why you were upset."  
  
"Yes!" My cry is almost strangled with frustration.  
  
"Okay, now you're going to have to explain from the beginning." His voice is calm even as I feel my emotions running away from me again.  
  
"Apparently, I found out what they were doing with my SIMs--those are--were--the--"  
  
He interrupts me. "I know." There's an undercurrent of anger to his voice. "I know *some* of what those people did to you and others." I can see him shaking his head, then he calms himself. "I'm sorry... go on."  
  
"Anyway... Apparently I found out, and I escaped--for five years!" Too long, it was too long, I tell myself. "Then they caught me, and I let the only two people I've ever trusted take away my memory, 'for my own good.'"  
  
"Wait... what do you mean you 'let them'? Doesn't seem to me like you had much control over it."  
  
I shake my head. "You don't understand. I understand hypnosis, I would have known what he was doing. That means I must have let him!"  
  
"Okay," was the thoughtful response. "And how do you know all this?"  
  
"Miss Parker." My expression darkens.  
  
"That must be the woman you thought would be better aided by my services." I nod stonily. "Well, perfect." He stands to his feet. "Now we can both go talk to her!" His voice is far too cheery for my liking.  
  
"*You* can talk to her."  
  
"No, that won't do. Do you remember how I told you that you could get rid of me?"  
  
"'All you have to do is talk to me until I'm satisfied,'" I quote. "You. Not others."  
  
"Well then, you don't have to talk to her, but I want to." He takes a few steps away, then looks back. "Coming?"  
  
"No thank you," I mumble.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry to be unclear. That wasn't an option, that was a hint. To be more clear: come on, we're going to talk to your friend."  
  
Okay, his cheery wit is getting to me again. "I told you, I don't want to talk to her!"  
  
"And I told you that you don't have to," was his firm, serious answer. "Come on, Jarod."  
  
"Why do I have to come if I'm not talking to her?" I narrowed my eyes. "And who are you to order me around?"  
  
He sighs, then steps toward me. "I, Jarod, am the person who decides what happens to you. Most immediately, the person who decides where you are going tonight."  
  
"Well this is much better than the Centre," I mutter, still making no move to get up. "And what happens if I go the other way?"  
  
"Right now? Remember that conversation we had about what would happen if we got into a fight?" He sighs. "I don't want to take away your freedom, Jarod, I just want to make sure you don't hurt yourself or others as you adjust."  
  
Those words sound nice, but I still feel trapped. "I've been out before, I was fine then," I insist stubbornly.  
  
"You weren't FREE then, Jarod. The Centre was chasing you every moment of every day. They didn't directly control you but they kept you from living a normal life." He let a small smile crack his lips. "And from what I heard, you nearly got yourself killed many times... and those are just the ones the Centre knows about."  
  
"As opposed to now, when I've got a very oversized psychiatrist babysitting me."  
  
"Hey! Am I oversized for a babysitter or a psychiatrist?"  
  
I smile despite myself. "Both!" I stand slowly. It looks as if I have no choice.  
  
"Tell you what--come listen to what 'Miss Parker' has to say, and then you get to pick where we go next."  
  
I sigh, then nod. "Speaking of which, does 'Miss Parker' have a first name?" he continued as we started the walk back.  
  
I frown. "Her father calls her 'Angel,' but no one else does." I grin. "Or if someone did, they're probably dead now."  
  
"Interesting..." We walk in silence for quite a while. Finally I look to the left and see that the sky is beginning to tinge pink. "Look!" I point.  
  
"Yeah, the sunset is going to be beautiful tonight." He smiles at me.  
  
"I've never seen a sunset before!" I sigh. "At least, not that I remember..."  
  
"Jarod, we're going to work on getting your memory back. For right now, can't you enjoy seeing everything for the first time the second time?" He grinned at the complicated construction of his sentence, then continued. "Not many people remember the wonder of seeing things the first time, and you get to TWICE!" He almost sounds jealous.  
  
"Okay..." I concede. I sigh. "Thanks for putting up with me." It's as close as I can get to an apology.  
  
He knows that. "I've been called worse than a nagging oversized stalker." He grins. "I kind of like that. Massimo Parenti, nagging oversized stalker."  
  
I laugh, my first laugh in... I can't remember anymore. We fall into silence again, but this time it's a more pleasurable silence. I have forgotten what lies ahead of us. We stop to watch the sunset, and I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. For a moment, I'm bitter at lost chances, then I work to convince myself instead that I was 'saving up' for this moment.  
  
When we start walking again, though, I realize we are almost back. That means close to Miss Parker, someone I don't really feel like being near at the moment. Almost unconsciously I slow my pace.  
  
"Hey hey hey, no backing out now!" He takes my hand to pull me forward, then releases it as I match his speed. "That's right. You don't even have to talk to her, what's your problem?"  
  
"I have to listen to her," I mumble.  
  
"What?"  
  
I sigh. "Never--" I realize that he's not going to accept that as a response. "I said I still have to listen."  
  
"And what she has to say hurts," he finishes. I pause for a moment, then nod slowly. 


	9. Explanations

Explanations  
  
When we emerge from the trees, Miss Parker runs over to us.  
  
"Ah, just the person I wanted to see," Max says warmly when she's within earshot. I just watch stony-faced. I have to be here, but she doesn't have to think it's for pleasure.  
  
"Where have you been??" Miss Parker asks me, completely oblivious to Max's presence. A moment later she notices him. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm Massimo Parenti. I believe my current title is 'Nagging Oversized Stalker.'" I smile again despite myself, if only because I know how absolutely absurd he must sound to her.  
  
"Oh," is the best response she can manage. She looks to me and repeats her question. "Where did you disappear to??"  
  
Max doesn't even wait to see if I'll respond. "We were just out walking and talking in the forest." He pauses. "Actually, we came back here to talk to you."  
  
Parker looks to me, then back to Max. "We? I'm sorry, have I met you before?"  
  
"No, though I think I've heard your name tossed around." For a moment I think he's going to ask about her first name, then mercifully he moves on. "We were talking about what you told him earlier, and had some questions."  
  
I'm not a fan of the copious use of 'we' and it is clearly confusing Parker. Me returning angry she might have expected, but not this.  
  
"Uhh... Okay," she responds finally.  
  
"Okay. Jarod was telling me about his memory being taken away." Parker looks to me, clearly shocked. Finally she looks back to Max as he continues. "How exactly did you and Sydney," I'm surprised to hear his name--I don't think I've mentioned him directly, "manage to convince him?"  
  
Parker looks surprised. "We could never have convinced him!" she explains immediately. "He would rather have been killed then continue SIMing." She's talking directly to Max now, as though I'm not here. "I think he still feels that way," she says quietly, and looks down. I catch Max turning to get a glimpse of my face. Then he's back to Parker.  
  
"You did what you thougth was best, right?" She nods slowly. "Sometimes friends have to ignore what friends want in order to help them get what they need." He pauses to let that sink in, then continues gently, "Can you tell us what exactly was done to him? He needs to knwo there's nothing he could have done."  
  
I clench my hands at hearing what he's asking. I'm about to say something to him when Miss Parker answer. "I... I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that." She is valiantly struggling to control her emotions and is taking great care to keep from looking in my direction.  
  
"Miss Parker... Miss Parker!" She looks up as his tone becomes stronger. "It's not your fault."  
  
"Yes it is..." she says, beginning to cry despite herself. "I brought him back to the Centre--I should have tried to help him escape!"  
  
"I put my hand on Max's shoulder. "Come on, leave her alone, I don't need to hear this." I don't need to hear her say what she should have done but didn't, I finish to myself.  
  
Max shakes his head. "No, you're wrong. You need to hear it, and she needs to tell it and know that she is no more responsible for what people made her do than you are."  
  
"I could have said no, I could have fought it!" she exclaims through tears.  
  
"And then what would have happened?"  
  
"They would have killed me," she admits.  
  
"Then what would they have done to Jarod?"  
  
"Either tortured him to death or until he was too far gone to know what was happening when Sydney hypnotized him."  
  
"That's what they wanted to do, isn't it?" he finishes gently.  
  
She looks up in surprise, then nods. She still doesn't look at me, and I'm glad. It's infuriating and terrifying to hear about the negotions over my life.  
  
"Okay, having established that this was the 'easiest' way, tell him. He still needs to hear that there was nothing he could have done. He thinks that it's his fault, that he let Dr. Sydney hypnotize him." At this he slipped his hand over mine. I realize it serves a double purpose--he can feel my mood a bit, and make sure I don't go anywhere. At this moment I have my fists balled up so tightly that if my fingernails weren't so short (courtesy of the Centre), I would be cutting my own hands.  
  
Having had the purpose explained, Miss Parker is ready to begin. I cut in quickly, my voice a dry whisper. "She doesn't have to do this."  
  
Max squeezes my hand. "You can do this, buddy," he replies, ignoring what I said. "I know you, and you're strong." He looks back to Parker. "Go ahead."  
  
"I'm going to start with the 'capture.'" She looks at me now. "You let me get close. We had become friends over the time that you had been out, and you knew that I would let you go." Her voice was shaking slightly. "But Lyle came." I jump, recognizing the name. "Yes, the one from the dream." She takes a deep breath. "By pure accident, he had blocked off your pre-planned escape route."  
  
I can't stay quiet anymore. "Why didn't I try to run, though??"  
  
"It's a long story, but basically whoever brought you in--Lyle or me--got more power, while the other got demoted or--taken care of." She looks me in the eyes. "You let me take you in because if Lyle caught you, I would have been dead."  
  
I can imagine how awful the situation must have been, and I don't want to. I don't want to hear this! I pull my fist out of Max's, but he grabs my wrist. "Hold on, Jarod." I shake my head through my tears.  
  
"I was out for five years! I would have died rather than go back!"  
  
Parker looks at me. "No, you would have died rather than help them. But you weren't willing to give up your life when there was still a chance that you could escape." Another deep breath. "So when we got back, I had that extra power, and I used it to take as much power as I could over your treatment. Syd--" she stops for a moment. "Syd and I talked and talked, and the best situation we could come up with was hypnosis. We really didn't think it would last--Syd didn't think it was really possible to block out five years like that, but apparently he did a better job than he thought."  
  
"Enough," I say, calling an end to all of this.  
  
"No," is all Max has to say. He looked back to her. "But how did you disorient him so that he wouldn't stop you without him being so far gone that it wouldn't work?"  
  
Her voice took on the characteristic of a doctor describing symptoms while thinking as little as possible about the human being involved--just like Sydney when we used to SIM. "Five days starvation and solitary, no one in sight. Water, but not enough. Then induced hypothermia, still without people. No signs of what was being planned. Then, in the disorientated state from the combined starvation-dehydration-hypothermia, as he--" she stumbled over the first pronoun--"as he woke up, hypnosis. His mental state was improving but--"  
  
I didn't hear the rest. I had been trained too well, and I have SIMed my own state as she has spoken. I sink to the ground, Max kneeling next to me. I wretch, but my stomach is empty. I slowly become aware of Max speaking to me. "Come on, Jarod... It's okay..." I feel something cool on my forehead, and then I come to--I'm lying on the ground and Max is wiping my forehead with a damp cloth. Miss Parker is leaning over looking worried. 


	10. Food

Food  
  
"What happened?" she demands. I open my mouth, but Max fills in the words.  
  
"I think he SIMed it." I nod weakly. I haven't done a SIM that unpleasant in a while."  
  
"Why?" she asks, this time more gently.  
  
I make a face. "Habit." I try to sit up, but Max pushes me back down.  
  
"Whoa there, there's no hurry."  
  
"I'm fine," I insist. "Nothing really happened to me."  
  
"Nothing except you made yourself sick and nearly passed out."  
  
"Usually I don't do SIMs like that standing up."  
  
"I can see why." Finally he lets me sit up. "If I'd known that was going to happen, I might have picked a different place to have this conversation." I look around. Lights are still on in the lobby of the Centre, but there are significantly fewer people around.  
  
"So, where're we headed?" he asks me. I look at him blankly--does he want me to read his mind? "I said it was your choice next," he reminds me.  
  
Now that I think about it, that's an easy one. "Food."  
  
"Yeah, I'm hungry too. It's been a long day." He pauses. "Where do you want to go?" I look at him, confused. Didn't I just tell him? "For food!" he clarifies with a laugh.  
  
"He doesn't know anything about food," Parker speaks up, saving us a lot of trouble.  
  
"What's there to know?" I ask.  
  
Max looks at me, confused, then at Miss Parker. She, however, is still speaking to me. "They don't have daily nutritional supplements out here."  
  
Max STILL looks bewildered. "What is a 'Daily Nutritional Supplement'?"  
  
Parker and I answer simultaneously. "Supplement designed for optimal health and nutrition," I say.  
  
"Awful goop they fed to everyone in the Centre," is Parker's explanation.  
  
Max grins. "That's what I thought," he responds, chuckling. He looks to Parker. "Where should we go?"  
  
She smirks. "You could take him to an expensive restaurant to celebrate the fall of the Centre, but I can tell you now he's obsessed with fast food. I swear he lived on grease, last time..." She trails off, becoming aware of what she is saying.  
  
I look to Max. "We gotta work on getting my memory back... It's not fair for her to know more about me than I do!" I automatically lighten the tension.  
  
Max smiles. "Patience, we're gettin gto that." He gestures to us. "C'mon, my car's this way." I follow immediately. He looks back. "Miss Parker, are you coming?"  
  
I look back and see her hesitating. Still looking at Max, she answers, "Maybe you should go on ahead... I don't think Jarod wants me around."  
  
I pause, looking at her. I realize that now that I understood what happened, my anger is gone. Smiling, I call, "C'mon, Parker! If you took my memory of this 'fast food' away, the least you can do is reintroduce me to it!" Max's attitude is contagious, apparently.  
  
I look forward and catch Max looking at me happily, proudly, like Syd sometimes when I finished a hard SIM. I catch my breath, willing the tears to go away... Why can't it be Syd there, taking care of me and introducing me to this new world?  
  
I feel someone give my shoulder a squeeze, and I'm surprised to see that it's Miss Parker. "I know..." she whispers. "I miss him too." I appreciate the gesture. A moment later she has released me and everything is back to 'normal.'  
  
We reach Max's car, which looks more like a truck to me. In fact... I kneel down and examine the undercarriage--that's what I thought. I look up to see Max chuckling at me. "What?"  
  
"If you're done examining it, can you get in? I'm hungry!" Obliging, I take the seat next to him in the front as Parker voluntarily relegates herself to the back--what a day of surprises.  
  
I enjoy watching the world as we drive by it. I know everything about the mechanics of these vehicles, but I never understood what it's like to have the world fly by you. It's dark but I'm glad for what I can see--for once, not cement walls in every direction!  
  
Finally we pull into a parking lot, and in front of us is a brightly lit establishment with lots of people inside. Above there is a sign that reads, "Jack-in-the-Box."  
  
We walk in--it's loud. I hadn't expected that. Then again I don't know if I've ever been in an enclosed space with this many people before. I look around curiously. There are lots of families, and I watch as parents help their children eat, chase them around the restaurant, or just laugh with them. What would it have been like to be one of these children?  
  
I'm startled out of my thoughts by Parker grabbing my arm. "Come ON! I think Max might eat YOU if you don't hurry--and I might help!" I follow, wondering if cannibalism is more common than I was led to believe. Parker turns and sees my expression. "I was joking, Genius!" she exclaims exasperatedly.  
  
I look up at the lit board. Some of the names have pictures, others don't. "What are 'egg rolls'?" I ask Parker and Max.  
  
Max laughs. "There's a hard one to explain--let's get some and you can try." When we finally walk away from the counter, the workers look bewildered and I catch others staring at our three trays of food.  
  
Miss Parker is one of them. "Who is going to all of THAT??"  
  
"Us!" respond Max and I in unison.  
  
There are so many different tastes--I don't think I even understood what a taste WAS before. And Parker is right--this stuff is good! I can't imagine anything better.  
  
I share this thought with Max and Miss Parker. They laugh at me. "Wait 'til you try ice cream!" adds Miss Parker.  
  
----------  
  
Slowly but surely. I must go back to work--I have about 8 hours of lecture recorded that I have to listen to... AHHH!!! Oh, by the way, sorry if there are any sentences that sound awkward... I'm convinced that my Italian is trying to creep into my English. And sometimes I REALLY want to use an italian word/expression instead of English. I guess you all are just going to have to learn Italian! ;-)  
  
Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews, I will get more out as soon as possible! 


	11. Brain Freeze

Brain Freeze!  
  
Next we go to get ice cream. I am surprised to find that there is a store just for ice cream. However, I soon understand why.  
  
"Wow!" I exclaim after swallowing my first bit. "This is GOOD!" Once again they laugh. I hold the next bite in my mouth, savoring the flavor--until suddenly I get an awful headache. "Ow!"  
  
Parker jumps forward. "Are you okay??"  
  
Max laughs at her. "Brain freeze!" he exclaims.  
  
"Brain... freeze?" Parker rolls her eyes.  
  
Max nods. "Yeah, the headache you get after you keep something really cold in your mouth.  
  
"Oh." I think about that as I take another bite. "Ohh! I understand!" I exclaim after a moment.  
  
"Understand? What is there to understand?" is essentially their collective response.  
  
"The ice cream cools the blood in the arteries that run over the roof of your mouth, which causes a headache... Brain freeze!" I smile and they shake their heads. I continue. "That means that if you put your tongue on the top of your mouth it should help the blood warm up faster and therefore make the headache go away more quickly."  
  
"Hey, that's cool!" exclaims a child's voice. I turn to see a 9-year-old boy who has wandered away from his parents and has apparently been listening to the conversation.  
  
I kneel down to his level, still eating the ice cream--you can't stop or it will melt all over you! "This is the first time I've ever had ice cream... It's very good."  
  
The boy gives me an incredulous look. "You've never had ice cream before?" I shake my head solemnly, then lean in and whisper, "She says I have, but I think I would have remembered something this good!" We laugh together.  
  
"Does putting your tongue on the roof of your mouth really make the headache go away?"  
  
"I don't know for sure," I admit. "Let's find out!" I put a big bite of ice cream in my mouth and tense for the headache coming. We both groan at the same time, and hurry to swallow the ice cream and put our tongues on the roofs of our mouths.  
  
"Hey, that's really awesome! Hey, Mom, Dad!" He turns to find them right behind him, watching me cautiously but with smiles on their faces. I smile up at them, then look back to him.  
  
"Enjoy your parents," I tell him with a smile. "Not everyone has parents to watch after them and take them to ice cream!" He smiles back, and I stand. "Your son is very friendly... you've done a good job raising him, and he's lucky to have parents like you looking after him." We exchange smiles and I walk back to Max and Parker. The boy yells his thanks and I smile back at him as his parents lecture him about "inside" voices. I wonder what an outside voice is.  
  
The other two are both watching me, smiling. "Ready to go?" asks Max. I nod, still thinking about family. We walk out to the parking lot. Max looks to Parker. "Is your car still at the Centre?" She nods reluctantly. "Okay, then we'll head back there so you can go home."  
  
As I yawn, the word 'home' hits me. Where am I going to sleep tonight? The thought that it will not be within the Centre excites me, but scares me a bit too.  
  
As if reading my mind, Max continues. "As for you, Jarod, if you want to stay in a hotel that's your prerogative, but you're free to sleep at my house. I've got a comfy couch that's calling your name." 'Calling my name?' I think. Max answers my unspoken question. "It's personification! People do that a lot in speech to give emphasis. Makes things more colorful."  
  
"Ah." I smile mischieviously. "So I could say that the couch will be calling *your* name if you don't get me there soon?"  
  
"Do I have to refer you back to the 'who can beat up whom' conversation AGAIN??"  
  
"You know, we still haven't tested that theory, and if you keep referring to it I might force the issue."  
  
"Bring it on!"  
  
-----  
  
Miss Parker listened from a back with a smile. The two acted like brothers. Her smile faded as she considered if this was how he and Kyle would have interacted. In a perfect world... She looked up and caught Max watching her in the rear view mirror. She smiled at him, waiting until his eyes returned to the road. At least she knew Jarod was in good hands--Max seemed at least as adroit as Sydney at intuiting and disarming negative emotions.  
  
-----  
  
The trip to Max's house is mercifully short, because I am exhausted. When we reach it, he quickly gets the "couch" (which is really a bed that folds up like a couch... he calls it a 'futon') ready.  
  
It is strange to go to sleep outside of the Centre. The room is bigger than I'm used to, and I can hear cars going by outside. For a while I lay awake watching the patterns the headlights make on the walls. Finally I drift off. 


	12. Not so Sweet Dreams

Not So Sweet Dreams  
  
I sleep dreamlessly for a good portion of the night, but then that is made up for with a return of the dream of Lyle.  
  
In the midst of the dream, I wake up to realize that there is a real hand holding my shoulder. I come awake in an instant and lash out at the stranger. At the same time, I'm taking in the shadows of the dark room--where am I??  
  
"Easy, Jarod," comes a calm voice. "It was just a dream, you're safe now." Finally, I remember: I'm not at the Centre, I left yesterday. I'm at Max's house. I relax. Slowly my panicked breathing subsides.  
  
"That was quite a nightmare--your scream woke me upstairs," Max comments finally.  
  
"Lyle."  
  
"But it's over now.. he can't hurt you ever again."  
  
"All I have to worry about is him coming to visit my dreams," I reply sarcastically.  
  
"You can wake up from a dream," he reminds me. I sit up, sighing. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"  
  
I shake my head. "I think I'm done with sleeping for tonight."  
  
Max looks at his watch and frowns. "I'm going to go make some tea," he sighs. He moves toward the kitchen and I stand to follow. "Just wait here, Jarod," he protests. "You're my guest."  
  
I ignore him, appearing in the kitchen just after him. He jumps when he sees me. "Oh!" He mock glares at me. "Didn't I tell you to wait?"  
  
"Did I ever tell you I don't follow directions very well?" I grin.  
  
I watch him quietly as he puts the kettle on to boil, then prepares the tea packets in mugs. Without being aware of it, I am staring at the kettle, waiting for the whistle that will signal that it is boiling.  
  
"Tsk tsk, Jarod. A watched pot never boils." I look at him curiously. He shrugs. "Try it. It feels like it takes forever." I turn back to the kettle, my curiousity now sparked. He laughs.  
  
He's right; it does seem to take a while. Finally, it begins to whistle and I look to Max triumphantly; he shakes his head incredulously. "Only you, Jarod."  
He takes the kettle off the stove and pours water into both cups. I see the tea leaves color the water, the flavor spreading. Then he removes the packets and begins to sprinkle something into my cup.  
  
"What's that?" My voice sounds more suspicious than I had intended.  
  
He looks at me, surprised. "Sugar. You do want some, right?" I nod eagerly, then wait while he puts sugar into his cup also and then hands me mine. We move back to the living room.  
  
The tea is hot; Max laughs at me when I jump. After a moment, though, it has cooled a bit and the heat is soothing. I feel myself relaxing slowly.  
  
"Are you sure you're not going to get anymore sleep?" Max asks, yawning.  
  
I yawn also. "I don't need much sleep. Don't worry, I'll find something to read or something."  
  
"Okay..." he replies reluctantly, glancing at his watch again. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, finishing our tea. "I'd better get back to bed," he says finally, standing slowly.  
  
"I'll be down here," I respond with a big yawn. I really am quite tired; I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.  
  
I wake to the sound of pots and pans being manipulated in the kitchen. I'm surprsed to find that I not only fell asleep, but slept until it was light outside. I pick up my tea cup from earlier to carry it into the kitchen, then stop for a moment when I see the bottom.  
  
I walk into the kitchen; he doesn't see me. "Sugar dissolves in boiling water," I inform him.  
  
He turns to look at me. "Yes, I'm aware of that fact."  
  
"I have to wonder why there is a white powdery substance at the bottom of my tea cup." I wait to see if he has an explanation.  
  
"At least you slept in a bed," he grumbles in response.  
  
"What?" I'm confused. "What does that mean?"  
  
"It means I fell asleep on the stairs last night." He massages his neck.  
  
Some of my anger dissolves, and I can't resist poking fun. "Interesting strategy."  
  
"It wasn't a strategy," he almost growls, clearly not amused. "Curious George forced me."  
  
I don't knwo what that means but it sounds awfully familiar. "The man in the yellow hat," I mumble, not sure what it means. Max spins to look at me.  
  
"How do you know that?" His voice is caught between surprised and excited.  
  
I look at him. "I don't. I mean, it sounds familiar, but I have no idea what it means."  
  
"Oh." He looks disappointed. "I'll explain later."  
  
"Meanwhile, you still haven't explained why you felt it necessary to administer a drug to me without my knowledge or consent," I remind him.  
  
Max sighs, then turns to look at me. "As long as I'm responsible for your health and well-being, I'm going to do what I feel is best for you. Later, if you so desire, you may deprive yourself of as much sleep as you would like, though as someone who cares I'd rather you not."  
  
"You could at least tell me," I respond petulantly.  
  
He gives a half laugh. "Would you have drunk the tea if I had?"  
  
"No. But..."  
  
"You are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met." His voice is halfway between amusement and exasperation. "Breakfast is ready!" he adds after a moment.  
  
--------  
  
Any grammar experts out there? I can't help but feel that "drunk" is not the past participle of "drink"... but I can't come up with anything better. Actually, my instinct was to write "would you have drank the tea" which is the way that English is going at the moment, but then I decided I thought Max would say "drunk".. Sorry, that was a random side note.  
  
Hope you're all enjoying the story! I'm getting close to the "end," at least for this story. Let me know what you all think, either review or send me an e-mail at molly_morrison@yahoo.com! Thanks! 


	13. Completion

Completion  
  
For a few moments the conversation ceases as we both focus on our food. It's good, and yet completely different from dinner. How did I let the Centre feed me the same tasteless food for so long?  
  
I look up, curiousity striking--something that I'd been wondering for a while. "Do you do this kind of work often?" I can't help but wonder if there are really that many people who need the kind of help I do. From what I know most people haven't been kidnapped and raised by corporations.  
  
"Babysitting naive, stubborn geniuses? No, not often." He chuckles. "I volunteered. I work for the FBI, and I heard about what was happening. I know the fall-out was going to be more than physical, and I wanted to make sure that no one got overlooked."  
  
I ignore his jab for the moment. "FBI? Then you're not a psychiatrist?"  
  
"Oh no, I'm that too... just a little less conventional."  
  
"I noticed," I deadpan.  
  
"Oh, just shut up and eat!"  
  
"I thought you were supposed to be helpful, not mean."  
  
"There's a difference?" He grins. I return to my food, savoring every bite. Almost too soon I am finished.  
  
"Are we going to work on getting my memory back today?"  
  
"Ah, there's the question I've been expecting all morning." He sighs. "It's going to be a little more complicated than I was hoping."  
  
"I can teach you all you need to know about--"  
  
He interrupts me. "No, Jarod, it's not that. It's... Well, it's like Sydney built a dam in your mind. He had expected that it would leak, that your memories would escape, because he didn't think I block that big could stand up against the pressure. Unfortunately, it did, and all those memories have been building up. It would be easy enough to remove the dam, but I don't know what kind of damage could be done if all those memories come flooding out all at once."  
  
I nod thoughtfully. "So we have to try to find a way to make a hole without damaging the stability of the dam.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"We could start taking it apart from the top."  
  
He nods. "We could. But those would be the latest memories, and you wouldn't have anything to base them on."  
  
I shake my head. "That may be the only choice."  
  
Max frowns. "I don't like it. Your most recent memory will be the Centre, and these are going to come fast enough that in a sense they will be stronger than life--emotionally at least, especially without context."  
  
Max slammed his hand on the counter, swearing under his breath. "I don't like it!" I am startled at the first display of temper from him. He calms and smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I'm just--"  
  
"It's okay," I assure him. I pause. "I know you're worried, but this looks like the best chance we have, and I need my memory back," I continue, a bit of my desperation slipping into my voice.  
  
He takes so long to respond that I almost think he didn't hear me. Finally, he begins, "I know you probably don't want strangers here, but... would you be willing to let Miss Parker come? She might be able to help clarify things." I fill in what he doesn't add: And she can help me if you get out of control.  
  
I shrug. "She knows more about this than I do."  
  
"I just want you to be sure," his tone is serious, "because your thoughts and especially emotions are going to be more transparent than either of you are used to."  
  
I sigh, but thinking it through only takes a moment. "I know... but I trust her." I smile bittersweetly. "Maybe only because I only remember her as a child, but there it is."  
  
Max smiles. "Okay, so now are you going to call her or what?"  
  
"Oh." I walk to the phone and pick it up. "Do you have her number?"  
  
"Just a sec." He walks over to a desk and starts looking through the MANY papers stacked there.  
  
I look back to the phone. I listen to the dial tone, then to my surprise find my fingers already dialing a number. I let it ring, curious if what I just dialed is a memory, and if so whose phone number I have remembered.  
  
"What?!" is the answer.  
  
"Miss Parker?" I answer, partly surprised at the identity and partly amused. Max turns around in surprise and gives me a questioning glance, to which I shrug.  
  
She sighs, and I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "Yes, Jarod. Who did you think it was?" There's more than a little sarcasm in her voice.  
  
"I wasn't sure," I admit. "Do you always answer your phone that way?"  
  
From her irritated tone I can tell I've hit a sore spot. "Yes. Now was there something you wanted or did you just feel like prank calling someone?"  
  
"Prank calling?" From her huff I know it's not the time to ask a curious question. I sigh. "Look, I don't know what I said, but can we start over? I didn't call to exchange barbs."  
  
There's silence on the other end of the line for a long moment, then a milder Miss Parker speaks. "I'm sorry, Jarod. Old habits die hard."  
  
"It's fine," I reply, glad to have dampened her wrath for the moment. I hesitate. "Well, I was calling because, well..." I glare at Max, who is chuckling at me. "Max is going to start working on my memory back today, and he thinks having you here would help."  
  
Silence. "Do *you* want me there? You wouldn't mind?" she asks hesitantly.  
  
"No... why would I?" Now that we've established that she didn't have any choice with the memory block, I'm not really that angry anymore. Which is not to say that I'm not angry, it's just not directed toward her.  
  
"Okay," she agrees. "Here, why don't you let Max give me directions?"  
  
"I can give you directions from the Centre." Max looks to me in surprise and Parker is silent. "What?" I ask both of them simultaneously.  
  
Fortunately their responses are not simultaneous. "I thought you were almost asleep on the way home last night," says Max.  
  
"I just forget about your memory sometimes," explains Parker a moment later, having paused before answering.  
  
I laugh and shake my head, then give her directions. "Oh, that's not far from here--I'll be there in 30 minutes."  
  
"Okay." We hang up simultaneously.  
  
Max looks at me. "Okay, what was that all about? One second I was looking for the number, the next I hear you talking on the phone with her!"  
  
"Apparently my fingers remembered," I muse.  
  
Max shakes his head, but he's smiling. "You are one unusual guy, Jarod."  
  
"Hopefully we can take amnesiac out of that list, soon." I grin. "Not that that would make me normal."  
  
Max returns to the kitchen and I follow to help clean up. By the time Miss Parker arrives, we have returned the house to the state it was in before I arrived.  
  
"So what am I doing here, exactly?" Parker asks once we've settled in the living room.  
  
"You're helping to fill in important details." He explains, "Unfortunately, the amount of time with which we're dealing makes it dangerous to remove the block all at once. Kind of like the flood after a dam collapses." She nods in understanding. "What that means is that we have to start at the END and move backwards." Her eyes widen. Max nods. "I know, but it's the best option we have." He turns to me. "And I want to remind you that not all the memories are going to come out immediately. I'm giving your mind access, but it has to reactivate the old connections." I nod in understanding.  
  
After he starts, I don't remember anything again until he wakes me up. They look at me expectantly, but I don't feel any different.  
  
Max looks to Parker. "Can you say something that might trigger a memory?"  
  
"Okay..." she looks uncertain. "He followed me!"  
  
My gaze meets hers, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. "He's outside?" I ask with a dry throat, turning to look--  
  
"Jarod!" I blink. Max is standing in front of me. I smile grimly.  
  
"Well, it worked."  
  
Max nods. "I think that's enough for today."  
  
My head comes up. "What? But--"  
  
"No, Jarod." He shakes his head firmly. "I won't do it."  
  
"I have five years of memories in my head!" I exclaim angrily. "At this rate it will take 10 to get them all out!"  
  
"You don't know how much has been uncovered yet," he reminds me reasonably. But I'm not feeling very reasonable.  
  
"You have a lifetime of memories in the world--people, places, foods, adventures--I have five years, and they are all hiding in here!" I tap my head. "You can't stop at giving me memories of being dragged back to that hellhole!"  
  
"I said I wouldn't do it," he repeats quietly. Furious at his calmness and his firm refusal, I launch myself at him. It is completely thoughtless, but apparently Max was expecting it--he has me pinned within 15 seconds of my first punch.  
  
Furious, I try to throw him off--and nearly succeed. "Let me go!" I scream.  
  
"Calm down, Jarod," he tells me quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"You already are!" I yell. "That's all you want to do, is hurt me!"  
  
"It's okay, Jarod. They don't have you anymore, they can't hurt you ever again."  
  
"Let me go," I plead, still struggling. "You can't control me." The anger is evaporating, leaving behind traces of fear.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, Jarod." He reminds me. "It's okay."  
  
"No, it's not," I whisper, tears beginning to stream down my face. I'm almost limp in his grasp. He slowly releases me.  
  
"Yes, Jarod, it *is* okay."  
  
The tears expend themselves quickly, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted. Finally I look up--into the eyes of Miss Parker. I realize that she has been watching through all of this. Now I know what Max was warning me about. Suddenly overcome with shame, I climb to my feet and quickly leave the room. I hear her call out, but I can't look into her eyes, not right now. I find a corner hidden in the dining room and sit down--I just want to be alone.  
  
After a few minutes, Max comes into view. He doesn't say anything, just sits down next to me. Finally I speak. "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me," I admit honestly.  
  
"I do." I look to him. "You just had to deal with all the emotions of your capture, without adrenaline or a target." He gives a bittersweet smile. "The human mind can come up with those easily enough."  
  
"Now I know what you were talking about," I mumble, looking toward the living room. He follows my glance and my train of thought.  
  
"I think she understands more than you think," he comments.  
  
"How could she understand that? I don't even understand it!"  
  
"I think you two are in a very good position to understand the problems of the other.. better even than your own."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You're like two sides of the same coin, and both of you are trying to discover the other side of the coin." He grins. "Think about it."  
  
I do, but nothing comes to mind immediately. My brain will keep chewing on it, I know. "Is she still in there?" He nods. "Thank you, Max," I tell him gratefully, knowing he will know what I'm talking about. He smiles and remains behind while I force myself to walk all the way to the living room. As I enter, she turns. I give her a sheepish smile, then open my mouth to speak.  
  
"I'm sorry." I'm surprised to realize that we've spoken in unison. "What are *you* sorry about?" I ask, confused.  
  
"I'm sorry for ever having taken part in the corporation that hurt you. I'm so sorry for all you've had to go through."  
  
I shake my head. "You've been hurt every bit as much as me--you just haven't been allowed to show it, any more than I have."  
  
She bites her lip, fighting tears. "How can you be so understanding?"  
  
"How can you be so strong?" I give her a half smile. "Max said we're two sides of the same coin."  
  
She moves to sit next to me on the couch. "What was he talking about?"  
  
I shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine. He also said we're both trying to discover the other side of the coin."  
  
She smiles. "Sounds like we need to get to know each other."  
  
"I'd be up for that." I swipe a piece of hair out of her face gently; I'd forgotten how beautiful she is. "You've been hiding in that Ivory Tower for way too long."  
  
She laughs. "I've been waiting for my handsome prince to come get me."  
  
"I was a little busy with the dragon."  
  
She nods. "I know, I had to come rescue you!" She smiles. "I guess even fairy tales have to be politically correct now."  
  
"Politically... correct?"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "Oh no... Max! Get in here! We need to get this boy his memory back." I turn to look at see him standing in the doorway, watching us with a smile. He opens his mouth to speak.  
  
"Jarod!" I jump, and suddenly a snow-filled landscape filters back into my vision. How long have I been sitting here? "Lost in the past?" she asks, placing her hand gently on my shoulder as she joins me at the window.  
  
"Hi honey," I reply warmly, covering her hand with mine. "Yes, I was."  
  
"What were you remembering?"  
  
"The end... the beginning."  
  
"Do you think about Max often?"  
  
I nod. "I wish he hadn't disappeared so suddenly. Or that he had left some contact information." We both stare out the window for another moment, and then I jump to my feet.  
  
"Let's dance, Miriam!"  
  
She laughs, and it lights up her face. "Right now? I was just coming to tell you that we're due at your parents' house in an hour. It's time to get ready."  
  
I pout playfully. "Please, it's Christmas Eve! Just one dance... Our family won't mind if we're a few minutes late."  
  
She laughs again. "Okay." As she lays her head on my shoulder and we sway gently to the music, I have a thought.  
  
"Remember how Max said we were two sides of the same coin?"  
  
"Mmmhmm."  
  
"I think we're rich now."  
  
  
You are the sunshine  
  
I am the rain that falls in line  
  
You are a candle  
  
And I am your darkness.  
  
You are the moonlight  
  
I am the cloud that passes by  
  
You are a vision  
  
And I am blindness.  
  
  
And so it goes  
  
The story is far too old to know it all.  
  
On and on...  
  
We dance until the song is off the radio.  
  
On and on...  
  
We hold each other long after the crowd is gone.  
  
On and on...  
  
Our love goes on and on.  
  
  
You are an island  
  
I am the raging of the sea  
  
You are a fortress  
  
And I am a bandit.  
  
You are the valley  
  
You are the bird that flies so high  
  
You are a temple  
  
And I am a beggar.  
  
  
And so it goes  
  
The story is far too old to know it all.  
  
On and on...  
  
We dance until the song is off the radio.  
  
On and on...  
  
We hold each other long after the crowd is gone.  
  
On and on...  
  
Our love goes on and on.  
  
  
Take me to your drawbridge  
  
Take me to your door  
  
Take me when I'm hungry, baby  
  
Take me when I'm poor  
  
Take me when you're sick of love  
  
Take me when you've had enough  
  
Take me when I'm lost, alone, and don't know the reasons why  
  
  
And so it goes  
  
The story is far too old to know it all.  
  
On and on...  
  
We dance until the song is off the radio.  
  
On and on...  
  
We hold each other long after the crowd is gone.  
  
On and on...  
  
Our love goes on and on.  
  
  
On and on and on and on...  
  
We dance until the song is off the radio.  
  
On and on...  
  
We hold each other long after the crowd is gone.  
  
On and on...  
  
Our love goes on and on.  
  
  
You are a vision and I am blindness.  
  
--------------  
  
Okay, let's see. The song is called "On and On" and was written and performed by Kevin Max. It randomly came on while I was finishing this story and it just fit far too well.  
  
Yes, that's right, this story is finished. Let me know what you think. I do plan to write a sequel; unfortunately, you may have to wait until after December. I'm trying to transition to writing stories in Italian, at least while I'm in Italy, and unfortunately I doubt any of you will be able to read them. (If there's someone who CAN read Italian, let me know!!)  
  
Hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
  
Molly (molly_morrison@yahoo.com) 


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